


'Til the morning comes

by Withstarryeyes



Series: BINGO [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Although the timeline is probably fucked, Arthur is kind of a prat, Blood Loss, Captured, Gen, Held Prisioner, Here all the knights are banded and Uther is still alive, Hurt, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, I really don't care about when all the knights are a thing, POV Arthur, Protective Arthur, Slash if you really want it to be, Stab Wound, and when Uther dies, delirious, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 21:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: “Fine, sulk. See if  I care,” Arthur said, taking up residence in the opposite corner of the cell. The cool, stone-ground did nothing to help his sore muscles and Arthur shivered, wishing he’d worn something warmer than the normal clothes he wore around the castle and the black cloak he’d been hoping would disguise him.He spared another glance at Merlin, who had even thinner garments on than Arthur, but he wasn’t shivering. In fact, it looked like Merlin had managed to fall asleep sitting up, head propped against his forearms.Well if Merlin wasn’t going to complain then Arthur certainly wouldn’t. He was a prince, they weren’t supposed to pout or sulk. Especially not when a servant wasn’t even bothering to complain.Or...Arthur is bad at making plans and gets Merlin and him captured without knowing that Merlin was injured in the take-down.





	'Til the morning comes

“I told you this was a shitty idea and now we’re gonna die here,” Merlin mumbled from the corner of the cell him and Arthur were currently being held hostage in. 

Arthur scowled. While Merlin was correct, he had told Arthur this was a shitty idea, and they had been captured only fifteen minutes into the mission, they weren’t going to die here. Arthur hadn’t brought his knights and Arthur was sure that someone–Gwen, Gaius, hell even Gwaine–would figure it out eventually. Rescue would come. It may be a few days, at most a week, but they would be rescued. 

Arthur wasn’t stupid. He was a prince and even the most hostile of Kings would refuse to outright kill Uther’s heir. They may not be given food but they would at least be granted water. 

“We’re not going to die here,” Arthur snapped. “Someone will come to rescue us.”

“Bloody brilliant, waiting for a savior to come along. Such a wonderful use of our time.” 

Arthur paused and looked at his servant. Merlin was never one to be this cynical, in fact, Merlin was usually the most optimistic of Arthur’s friends. It was bloody annoying most days, watching Merlin bound around with the energy of a puppy and the mentality of a five-year-old. 

But right now Merlin looked well…drained. He was pale and curled in on himself, his face pressed into his arms, which were resting on his pulled up knees. His eyes seemed to have a hard time focusing on anything and there was a smear of dirt above Merlin’s right eyebrow that he’d done nothing to get rid of. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Arthur asked, trying to keep the concern out of his voice with an air of cool indifference. 

Merlin shifted, clenching his jaw and lifting his face from his forearms. His hands, pale and lined with dirt, were shaking. “What’s wrong with me? You never listen to me! I told you that someone from King Hawthorne’s court would recognize you, you’re the bloody prince of Camelot. But you said that this,” Merlin pointed to the black cloak that was draped over his clothes and the one Arthur was sporting, “would be enough to disguise us. We got captured within fifteen minutes. That’s pathetic, even for you!” 

“Well, at least we weren’t killed or injured. We’re fine. This cell is bigger than your room at Gaius’ anyway. Think of it as a vacation.”

Seeing Arthur’s obvious annoyance Merlin gave up trying to argue, choosing to bury his face in his arms again and mumble something that sounded like “speak for yourself” into his arms. 

“Fine, sulk. See if I care,” Arthur said, taking up residence in the opposite corner of the cell. The cool, stone-ground did nothing to help his sore muscles and Arthur shivered, wishing he’d worn something warmer than the normal clothes he wore around the castle and the black cloak he’d been hoping would disguise him. 

He spared another glance at Merlin, who had even thinner garments on than Arthur, but he wasn’t shivering. In fact, it looked like Merlin had managed to fall asleep sitting up, head propped against his forearms. 

Well if Merlin wasn’t going to complain then Arthur certainly wouldn’t. He was a prince, they weren’t supposed to pout or sulk. Especially not when a servant wasn’t even bothering to complain. 

Outside, Arthur could see the last light of dusk filtering in through the small slot of a window several stories up. They’d been captured mid-afternoon, it was currently July and Arthur knew that the sun set somewhere around nine, meaning that he and Merlin had been missing for about six hours. Frequently, Merlin and Arthur would go on mid-afternoon hunting trips that would span until dusk, where they’d set up camp and return the following morning. But Arthur had never returned later than an hour after sunrise. He supposed that Gwen would notice him missing sometime around then. They were a few hours ride from Camelot, meaning he and Merlin would have to wait until mid-day to be rescued. He sighed, feeling the exhaustion from the day pound into him, and resigned himself to find a comfortable position to sleep. 

Something was interrupting his dream. It was a clinking noise, but it wasn’t metallic. Arthur expected to be awoken, whether by the jangle of the cell bars as their capturer passed goblets of water through the bars or by the metallic clang of sword fighting alerting them of their imminent rescue. But this noise was different. It was repetitive but quiet, and it sounded like…teeth chattering?

Arthur opened his eyes, the moonlight allowing him a little bit of sight to their surroundings. There was no movement outside of the small cell, at least as far as Arthur could see, and the heavy, wood door to the cell was firmly closed. Inside the cell was only Arthur, a scattering of hay along the floor, a single barrel of chains that were used to pin up prisoners that were particularly tenacious and Merlin. 

Merlin was still curled in a small ball, but he’d shifted on his side. Arthur squinted at his servant, seeing his eyes still closed in sleep, however, his jaw seemed to be vibrating. At once, Arthur realized that the noise was indeed teeth chattering and it was coming from the prone form in front of him. 

“Merlin?” Arthur set a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. The thin fabric covering the limb was soaked with sweat. Merlin?!” 

Merlin startled awake, throwing out his gangly limbs in an explosion and catching Arthur in the side of his jaw. Arthur jumped back at the pain, his hand flying to cover the spot, but his eyes remained on Merlin. 

He was heaving in air and his eyes were flitting around the dark space like they couldn’t focus. What Arthur was most concerned about, however, was the smear of blood that had appeared on the side of Merlin’s cheekbone. He realized the source as he grabbed Merlin’s hands, feeling the familiar stickiness of blood against his palms. 

“Arthur?” Merlin slurred, voice breathy and quiet.

“You’re bleeding. Bloody hell, Merlin, why didn’t you tell me you’d been injured?”

Merlin winced and his eyes flickered guilty down to his side. Arthur followed his gaze and saw for the first time, the wetness to the black cloth there. He let go of Merlin’s hands, ignoring the man’s protests and pulled back the cloth. A gash ran from the edge of Merlin’s rib cage to his stomach. Arthur shut his eyes and breathed in, trying to quell the worried rage that bubbled up inside him. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

Merlin shrugged, or started to, until the movement pulled on the cut and caused the temporary crust to crack, letting thick blood slowly seep through the openings. 

“We need to bandage that. I’d prefer to sanitize it first, but seeing as we’re trapped here for the next few hours I don’t really have a choice.”

Merlin had gone suspiciously quiet and Arthur looked up to see how pale Merlin had become. “Merlin?”

“I don’t feel good.”

Panic threatened to cut off Arthur’s air supply. He pushed it down. “What kind of don’t feel good?”

“Cold.” Merlin was, at Arthur’s inspection, shivering quite badly now that the sun had gone down. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and cursed darkly. He needed to warm Merlin up. He doubted Merlin had lost enough blood to put him into shock, but it was cold in this cell, as far underground as they were, and even if Arthur could break them out of the cell, there was no hope for him to carry Merlin up the several flights of stairs to the door outside without alerting someone of the attempt. They’d just have to wait it out until the knights came to rescue them in the morning. 

“Alright, I’m gonna give you my cloak and then I’m gonna use my shirt to bind your side. We need to keep some pressure on the wound.”

Merling shook his head and when Arthur tried to drape his cloak over Merlin’s shoulders he pushed it back into Arthur’s chest. “You need it more.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. Just breathe, he reminded himself, drawing in a calming breath. “I’ll be fine. I have more weight on me than you do, it’s just a few more hours until sunrise, I can make you. But you need to stay warm. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

Merlin looked like was going to refuse but after a few moments of staring into Arthur’s determined eyes, he nodded once. 

They weren’t the best makeshift bandages Arthur had ever made, but they would have to do. Once he’d tied his shirt around Merlin’s torso, and gotten the extra cloak over Merlin’s layered clothing, he set himself up against the same wall as Merlin. 

The chill from the cell was starting to get to him and Arthur tucked his hands around his side, his arms crossed, to keep them warm. Merlin was watching him and Arthur sighed. 

“I’m fine.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, but he was still watching him and he seemed to make a decision. Before Arthur could ask what it was, Merlin had pressed against Arthur’s side, the extra cloak in his hands, which he draped over the both of them once he was close enough. 

“This is ridiculous, you need this cloak and I do not.” 

Merlin shrugged. “This way we both get it, and we’ll share body heat. There’s no point in you getting hypothermia and dying because I was too much of an idiot to keep myself from being stabbed.”

There was so much wrong to that statement. Merlin was blaming himself for being stabbed in a mission–that Arthur had fought for–gone wrong. If anything it was Arthur’s fault. But Merlin’s eyes were dragging, and the first rays of light were peeking through the window so far above them, and Arthur was tired. He’d talk to Merlin about that sentiment when they got back to Camelot. 

For now, Arthur decided, he was going to sleep and wait for rescue to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I hope you liked this fic. If you did please leave a kudos or a comment, I really love them and they help me gauge interest in what I'm currently writing. I'm fairly new to writing Merlin so I hope the characters come off fairly normal. 
> 
> Thanks,  
> C


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